No mental or physical discomfort would have induced him to return.
He propped himself against a piece of stonework and gazed moodily out to sea.

He did not want to leave this haven of his childhood.

Yet the thought of remaining in close proximity to a party of tourists was detestable to him.

Why in the world couldn't they stop away, he wondered savagely?
And then his own inconsistency occurred to him, and he smiled grimly.

For the place undoubtedly had its charm.
A fisherman in a blue jersey lounged on to the quay at this point of his meditations, and, old habit asserting itself, Merefleet greeted him with a remark on the weather.